


If Not Tonight, Then Tomorrow

by AdelineAround



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Canon Compliant, Dom/sub Undertones, Flirting, Kissing, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Oral Sex, Post-Coital Cuddling, Rope Bondage, Simultaneous Orgasm, birthday fic for gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 15:25:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19406065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdelineAround/pseuds/AdelineAround
Summary: Arthur Morgan has always been an interesting man to look at. Joenie Lovings, a Pinkerton, thinks so too.Both he and Arthur go a little farther than just looking.





	If Not Tonight, Then Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> A fic for [Gen](https://twitter.com/hrtbrokentweets).  
> Happy birthday, lovely.
> 
> Joenie belongs to Gen, who has captured my heart. It was fun writing this squabble of a fanfic featuring Joenie, because Arthur deserves a lot of lovin'.

Joenie secures the last knot in the rope, letting it rest against Arthur Morgan’s lumbar. It is small enough where it should not elicit any discomfort from the man when Joenie rolls him onto his side.

“Ain’t you gonna untie me, boy?” Arthur’s voice is always so gruff, so perfectly low-pitched. He struggles against the ropes, to no avail.

Joenie smirks. This is just the beginning, and if Arthur is opting to be this vocal during, he will be screaming by the time Joenie is done with him. He turns his back to Arthur, opening and searching the drawer that stands against the wall opposite of the captured outlaw.

“Joenie?” Arthur rasps, still squirming in his confines.

The way Arthur says Joenie’s name is too good not to ignore.

“Is something the matter, Arthur?”

Finding the small tub of Vaseline, Joenie saunters towards Arthur, each footstep more purposeful than the last. The floorboards creak ever so slightly under his feet, his gait steady as he gazes sultry at the man tied up with his own lasso.

It is quite funny to note that Arthur is bound with his own ropes, really. The material is sturdy enough to keep multiple knots while still binding its victim. Joenie puffs out a short chuckle, recalling the scuffle they had downstairs at the inn bar upon meeting each other again. Joenie had been nursing a drink, waiting patiently for Arthur, knowing that he was sure to come; if not tonight, then the next. He was on his second frothy beer when the entrance doors hinged open. His heart leapt as he turned his head, eyes assaulted by the handsome sight of none other than Arthur Morgan.

The man, the cowboy- the only thing Joenie _could_ call him without arousing suspicion- was covered in a thin dusting of the town’s dirt road, as if he had rode through a dust cloud or the like. When Arthur swiped at his nose, presumably to wipe away the dirt, his thumb traced a clean line over his face.

Joenie said nothing as he watched Arthur sit not too far from him at the counter, ordering himself a drink before taking out a handkerchief to clean his face with. Joenie had let him go on a little longer like this, keeping tabs on him from across the bar whilst finishing his own beverage. It was only until Arthur started asking for another did Joenie feel he’d had enough of a waiting game.

This begs the question: how did they get into a tussle, where Arthur ends up cocooned in his own lasso? Joenie had devised the plan on his own, not letting Arthur in on any of it. Rather, he’d slithered out of his seat, assured eye contact with slightly glazed over ones, and proceeded to twist the cowboy’s arms back into a strong hold. Arthur, being bigger and therefore physically stronger than Joenie, wrestled out of the grip. With a clang and a clinking of unsteady glasses on the counter surface, Arthur pinned Joenie to the bar.

“Good to see you’ve retained your strength, mister Morgan,” Joenie quipped, not minding the large hand holding his head down by the crown of his head.

“What are you doing here, Joenie?” replied Arthur, noticing how quiet the first floor of the inn had become. “Shouldn’t you be ridin’ with them Pinkertons?”

Joenie let his hands hold the counter edge, bent at the waist in a position that would have been otherwise provocative if they did not already initiate a scuffle. He could feel the tension in the room rising, no thanks to the awkward audience made up of bar patrons. In fact, he did not care for extra eyes on him, let alone on Arthur Morgan. “I’d love to give you reasoning, but I think it would be best if we take this conversation up to my room, don’t you agree?”

Arthur blinked once, or so Joenie thought; his head was still pressed to the wood bar counter. “You’re stayin’ here tonight?”

“Sure am.” Joenie would have turned his face, if he could. “Now, unhand me, mister Morgan. I’m here on personal business this time, not Pinkerton investigations.” His voice came out unwavering, balanced, to his luck.

After a moment, Arthur moved to release him, but not before Joenie turned the tables. And, oh, how the tables turned; Joenie caught onto the lasso secured to Arthur’s hip, making a quick toss as the man staggered back in surprise. He pulled the rope tight, ringing the cowboy in. Arthur was making it too damn easy to catch him...

“You done daydreaming, boy?”

Joenie snaps out of his recollection of the night’s previous events. His face turns smug, tilting at an angle as he finds himself tugging Arthur to his feet. The man seems to tower over him, and Joenie shudders at the difference in their body types.

“Who said I was daydreaming?” he finally replies, a couple of fingers tracing Arthur’s chin. Joenie can feel the coarseness of the beard there, deciding that it will need a trim after all is said and done. Perhaps, if he advises Arthur to see a barber, the man just might after tonight.

Arthur peers down at Joenie, but not with distaste. “Ya get that glassy look in yer eyes whenever you’re recallin’ somethin’,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Touche.” Joenie laces his fingers through the rope upon Arthur’s chest, and pulls him towards the bed. “I’m afraid you have come to know me a tad too well.”

Arthur hums, “Maybe.”

“No,” says Joenie. “You mean ‘most definitely’, because you have not given me a single struggle since we left the bar.” He eyes Arthur through thick lashes. “Something the matter, mister Morgan?”

It is Arthur’s turn to show off some of his pearly whites. “It’s just ‘Arthur’ now.” He chuckles, “We ain’t in public eye no more, Joe. Ya can drop the formalities. I sure as hell don’t have no title to my name.”

“No, you sure don’t, _Tacitus Kilgore_.” Joenie uses one of the pseudonyms that the Van der Linde gang has given Arthur. “It’s been difficult trying to track you, Arthur. You’ve had me burning daylight for months now, finding you.”

Arthur shuffles closer, until only about an inch of room is left between he and Joenie, enough for the Holy Ghost to occupy while He still can. “I thought you had connections to keep tabs on me, being a Pinkerton and all.” If his hands were free, he would oh-so-slowly brush his hands against Joenie’s, reading into that sultry gaze the Pinkerton agent is giving him. “Unless you were missin’ my face enough to come see me in the flesh.”

Joenie raises a brow at Arthur, but his body is moving closer, closing the distance. His chest bumps Arthur’s larger one, absorbing the warmth radiating off the cowboy. As if reading his mind, Joenie trails his hand up Arthur’s waist, starting at his belt and up to his ribcage. He snorts softly when Arthur exhales shakily at the touch.

“Let’s not make assumptions,” he answers, nimble phalanges crawling up the cowboy’s side. He notices the way Arthur gasps at the movement. “But, to be clear, yes, I wanted to confirm what my sources were saying about you.”

“So ya came to find me,” surmises Arthur, but his voice is so low that it might as well be gravel. It makes Joenie close his eyes for a second, letting each vibration of the words spoken into the air wash over his body. Arthur murmurs, “You wanted to see me again.”

Before Arthur can say any more, however, Joenie crowds him until the back of his knees hit the mattress, throwing him off balance. He falls into a sitting position upon the bed; the perfect height for Joenie to bend and press their lips together in a less than chaste kiss.

The Vaseline in his hand tumbles onto the bed somewhere, to which he figures they will find it later. Joenie moves to straddle Arthur, similar to a horse saddle, as he seats himself in the man’s lap. He is pleased when Arthur reacts, taking the kiss from level one to higher. He takes the chance to slot their lips together, sucking gently on Arthur’s bottom lip before releasing it and feeling it snap back into place.

No words are exchanged as they swap spit back and forth, mouths opening up to each other. Their tongues meet in the middle, doing something, anything to get the other going. As if they were not already turned on, Joenie paws at Arthur’s big chest, thumb and forefinger latching onto pebbling nipples through shirt fabric. Arthur gasps into the kiss, body jerking in reaction when Joenie pinches them between his fingers. He rolls them, knowing how much Arthur likes that. This is not their first rodeo, and it certainly will not be their last. Joenie shoves his tongue as far as it will go into Arthur’s hot cavern of a mouth, exhaling shakily when the cowboy sucks on it gently. It is only a matter of time before they run out of air, forced to break the kiss.

Joenie ruts his hips next, straight into Arthur’s just for added effect. Even through the thick hide of their riding trousers, Joenie can guess how hard the man must be right now. He almost salivates at the thought of Arthur’s arousal, can almost imagine the way it tastes upon his epithelium. But putting his mouth on Arthur means getting off of him, and Joenie has to force himself to slide onto the ground in order to do so.

“So, this is how we’re gonna play, boy?” Arthur lilts, but he is not protesting. Instead, he parts his legs a little more, as if to invite Joenie to what lies between them.

Joenie does not answer verbally. His fingers are deft in pulling the belt off before untying the strings and unclasping the clasps that hold Arthur Morgan’s pants up. He makes do quickly, wasting no time when he has got the obstacles free. Without grace, he takes to shuck Arthur of his pants. A devilish smile plays on his face as the trousers drop to the man’s boots, and helps Arthur free himself of both the shoes and trousers completely. It lies in a heap somewhere at the edge of the bed.

Next is the shorts. The thin cloth teases Joenie in every way. By this time, Arthur is straining at the material, and it leaves no room for imagination. Even under his shorts, Arthur’s member looks humongous. Joenie cannot unsee the wet spot dampening where the tip is located, and he fights the urge to lick his lips.

“Are ya gonna sit there and watch me all night, or what?” Arthur growls low, but there is no actual threat to his words. In fact, it fuels the flame burning bright in Joenie’s core, urging him to give into his desires.

And give in he does, for Joenie does not deny himself the chance to wrap his lips around the head of Arthur’s clothed dick, lapping at him through the confines.

Arthur, if not keening, roars at the sudden feeling on his cock. Compared to the now warm air around them, Joenie’s tongue is fucking wet, slobbering against him because he did not bother to release Arthur from his underwear quite yet. His member throbs, jolts upwards, as if it is begging to get inside Joenie’s beautiful mouth. He groans as he watches the Pinkerton give kitten licks; such an innocent name for something so debauched.

“Stop-” His breathing is labored, cutting into his words. “Teasing,” A breath. “Boy.”

To Arthur’s relief, or disappointment, Joenie does cease his actions, eyes bright with mischief. He looks like a goddamned outlaw here, between the cowboy’s legs. He looks by-Almighty gorgeous.

Joenie huffs a laugh, setting to remove the man’s shorts. It is only once in a blue moon that Arthur gets impatient and needy like this. Wiggling the band down and under, he forgets to brace himself for when Arthur’s hard cock emerges.

It springs up and out of the shorts, bouncing slightly in open air as Arthur hisses. It looks… absolutely delicious. Joenie knows he is salivating by now, just looking at that huge thing. Hastily, he strips Arthur of his shorts, tossing them haphazardly to the corner of the bedroom. The scent, the musky, sweaty smell of a man who has been riding long hours floods his senses, intoxicating him. He needs to be quenched. He wants to be on that thing, that cock, any way he can. He dives in without warning.

“Christ,” Arthur cries out, hips lifting off the bed when Joenie swoops in and takes him into his mouth. His bound arms strain against the ropes, to no avail.

Joenie moans around the cock in his mouth. More, more, more. It is so good. His eyes slide shut as he takes more of its length, sliding up and down it slowly. He sucks his cheeks in then, mindful of his teeth as his oral muscle plays with the tip. Salty, briny precum tingles over his taste buds, but he does not recoil from it. The fire in his belly grows brighter as he opens his jaw all the way. He traces the vein from underneath Arthur’s cock, earning himself a shaky groan from the man. Up, down, up. Then, down further; Joenie relaxes his throat and swallows until his nose bumps with Arthur’s lower abdomen.

If Arthur had his hands free, he would have threaded them in Joenie’s lush hair. But, with his torso bound, he can only wiggle; he thrusts up into Joenie’s hot heat in compromise. Joenie chokes when he does, but does not let up. His brows furrow as he feels like he is swallowing Arthur even deeper, if that is at all possible. Arthur moans, eyes hazy with lust as he takes in the way Joenie holds his waist, sucking him in earnest now. The feel, the touch, the pace is exquisite. Arthur is already so amped up. If they keep up like this, he will not last for much longer.

Fortunately, Joenie seems to read Arthur’s mind, because he pulls back, popping off the cowboy’s dick like it is a sucker he can get from the general store.

“We’re not done yet,” he says, hands searching for the Vaseline. When he locates it, he drops it into Arthur’s lap and rises to standing position.

“Didn’t think we were done yet,” retorts Arthur, but he is smiling, albeit not fully. His cock stands at attention between his thighs, balls so full that they look borderline painful.

Joenie rolls his eyes. “Inflated ego isn’t a great look on you, mister Morgan.”

“It’s ‘Arthu- uhh...”

 _That_ seems to shut the cowboy up; Joenie unbuttons his dress shirt to reveal his beautifully slim build. He rolls it off his shoulders, presenting himself with a flirty wink at Arthur before undoing his belt, allowing it to slither to the floor with a loud clang that neither of the men could care less about. Then, it is onto the leather pants, of which Joenie is no stranger to pulling off his long legs. They seem to go on for miles and miles as he reveals every new inch of skin, all of which Arthur has seen before but never tires of. Joenie kicks off his swanky shoes unceremoniously, too horny to care where they end up, already wishing he could tear off the last article of clothing on his body: his own shorts.

“Joenie.”

Apparently, Arthur is on the same page, ocean eyes so dark from expanded pupils that he almost mimics an owl’s stare.

Oh so slowly, those shorts, those tiny shorts that fail to hide anything, come down that slim waist, guided by hands seemingly designed by angels. Joenie does not wiggle, instead lets his body relax as he reveals himself to Arthur. He is no less enticing than the first time they had been together like this.

“You’re teasing again, Joe,” Arthur says, his voice huskier, dick leaking at the head.

Joenie grins. Good. “Won’t you let me have my fun, Arthur?”

He moves to climb back into Arthur’s lap. With a strong push, he brings the man down into a lying position, kissing him once more before turning his attention to the jar of Vaseline. Arthur may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he knows what that is for. He breathes in shakily, supposedly from the arousal coursing through his veins.

Unscrewing the jar, Joenie scoops a liberal amount of the gel product and closes the container, setting it off to the side. Arthur eyes it. That is far too much, he thinks, but then again, it has been quite a while since they have seen each other. In addition, Arthur is by no means small. As if to prove a point, his cock pulses for attention, the end of it reaching just past his belly button.

“Joe?” Arthur has zoned out too much, because Joenie is showing the cowboy his back now, not facing him. Arthur would be offended, if not for the fact that, if he cranes his head up a little, he has a perfect view of Joenie’s supple ass…

A supple ass that Joenie is now prodding with three well-slicked fingers.

Well, curse him.

Arthur cannot help the feral rumble that emerges from his throat, unable to peel himself away from the sight.

Joenie rolls his shoulders, arching his back to get the right angle. He probes his hole with one finger, his other hand stroking his growing cock gently. He inhales and steadies himself as his digit draws circles against the tight pucker. Then, he dips in, all the way to the knuckle.

“God,” he exclaims, chin dropping to his chest.

Perhaps it really has been too long since he has done something like this, even though he has bathed earlier in the evening, preparing himself for tonight. However, he was in the bath without an audience. Now, he is aware that Arthur is looking nowhere but at him, resolve chipping away one piece at a time.

Pumping his finger in and out, he bears down and forces his muscles to relax, allowing for another finger. With this stance, it is difficult to balance and Joenie finds himself bringing the hand on his cock to the bed in order to anchor himself. So, he adds the third digit and whimpers as he does. The stretch is difficult now, but that does not deter him from stopping now. He increases the pace of his fingers, spreading his three fingers to widen his hole. His thighs quiver in anticipation, the squelch of lube echoing loudly in his ears.

He is sure Arthur can hear it too, because the man snarls like a wolf when Joenie curls his fingers and turns his face to look at him.

They will never get anywhere if Joenie does not go on with the show. Steadily, he removes his fingers, deeming himself ready for the next course. As much as he would like to hop on Arthur the way they are now, he quite enjoys the way he makes Arthur’s face contort in pleasure. He lifts himself and turns to face Arthur once again, knees on either side of the cowboy’s hips.

“Dun’ hurt yourself,” Arthur warns half heartedly, but he is so horny that he half wishes Joenie would get to it already.

Joenie huffs in mock irritation, bracing himself as he reaches back and lines Arthur up with his dripping hole, attempting not to squirm too much at the melting Vaseline running down his legs. He tips his head back so he can watch Arthur’s face, licking at his lips before he is sinking down, down… all the way down with an unadulterated wail.

Gravity does the rest for him; for the third of Arthur’s cock that Joenie is able to enter in himself, the force of his weight has him slamming down until his ass is snug with Arthur’s hips.

They both cry out in ecstasy from the initial breach. It’s all too much, and yet not enough, but Joenie allows himself a few seconds of stillness to adjust to the large girth inside him. However, the fire in his core is burning hotter than before; any longer, and he will incinerate from pleasure, something he does not want just yet. Careful of his footing, he puts his hands on Arthur’s shoulders and begins to move.

Joenie is so tight and soft like velvet. Arthur grits his back teeth, hissing through them as Joenie rides him slow. The pressure on his dick is so much, it almost hurts. He cannot believe, every time they have sex, it is always as exciting as the first time. The lasso holding him back is beginning to dig into his shirt, but he does not notice, too fixed on Joenie bouncing up and down on his cock. He listens to the man sigh when he brings Arthur’s thick member out of him, until Arthur is only halfway sheathed within, and moans when he drops back down onto Arthur’s dick, impaling himself. It is remarkable, indescribably good, and the cowboy takes it upon himself to thrust up into Joenie.

“Oh, fuck!” Joenie whines, brows knitting together. His legs seize up suddenly, tightening around Arthur’s sides in valiant try to keep him upright.

Rutting up into the man above him, Arthur takes each sound to heart, placing the soles of his feet on the bed to give it his all. He increases the rhythm as blood pounds in his ears to a faster beat of his rocking pelvis. He piledrives as best as he can into Joenie, feeling rabid with his only desire to find purchase.

Joenie gasps, losing his grip. With a yelp, he falls front, arms and hands the only things that keep him from crashing down. His face breaks out into a smile, giggling into Arthur’s face as they stare into each other’s eyes. But then Arthur angles his hips a different way, wiping the smile right off the Pinkerton’s face. His laughing devolves to moans so loud and lewd that he is sure the rest of the inn can hear them fucking like rabbits.

Arthur’s cock jabs him just right, so hard and diligent in his thrusts that sparks of white light pop behind Joenie’s eyelids when he squeezes them shut. His cock bobs between his and Arthur’s lower abdomens, neglected and an angry reddish-purple color. He does not want to touch it yet, for he will come as soon as he does.

“Oh, oh my god,” Joenie spits. His face is flushed with warmth, such a lovely shade of strawberry pink that enhances his freckles even more. “Arthur.”

Arthur flexes his muscles under the knots of rope, grunting to every rough thrust. Each thrust punches beautiful noises from the man above him, adding to the almost overflowing barrel of pleasure residing within him. When he ruts up, Joenie strokes downward, meeting him in the middle. They are not going to last, and both of them know it.

Ignoring the cramping muscles in his calves, Joenie holds onto Arthur and grinds as hard as he can, feeling their pace go erratic as they teeter towards the end. He gnaws on his lip hard enough to draw blood, locking eyes with Arthur as they move together as one. The heat inside him roils strong, builds until Joenie is shaking to the core. He is at the precipice of release, yet he still needs something a bit more before he can topple over the edge…

With a heave and ho, Arthur brings himself upright, teeth latching onto the juncture between Joenie’s shoulder and neck. He bites, incisors leaving deep indents in Joenie’s creamy, cinnamon-flecked skin. The pressure is enough, so good; just what Joenie needs to spill over.

Those electric-white sparks behind his ocular nerves explode into a myriad of colors. Red, blue and yellow fly in all different directions behind Joenie’s eyelids as he releases. Cum splatters across his belly, some of it jetting onto Arthur as well. His back bends almost impossibly, eyelashes fluttering as his mouth hangs open in an o.

Arthur follows not long after. His shout is muffled by Joenie’s skin. His whole body jerks, coming inside the man, breathing hard through his nose as he tries to regain control of himself. He kisses the mark his teeth has made upon Joenie’s skin, a deep, dark bruise starting to form under the epidermis.

They collapse together on the bed, Joenie on top of Arthur, still connected together as they realign their bearings. They lay there, bare with the exception of Arthur’s shirt and his tied lasso. Their shared warmth is comforting as they doze for a few minutes until Arthur’s member softens.

“Oh, wow,” Joenie grumbles when Arthur pulls out of him.

Arthur chuckles, but he sounds exhausted.

Eventually, they get up, Arthur needing Joenie’s assistance to free himself of his own lasso. He stretches, rubbing the indents left behind from the rope. He hopes his shirt does not wrinkle permanently because of it, but he is sure to find bruises in the morning.

“Off,” Joenie breaks the silence again, popping each shell button from Arthur’s shirt until it hangs loosely on the cowboy’s figure.

Arthur smirks. “Ya want me to stay naked..?”

“Unless you want to wear a cum-stained top, then yes,” Joenie quips, bending over to find a rag in the short dresser against the wall. His breath hitches when Arthur’s seed starts to dribble from his hole.

Arthur turns his eyes away. If he was still young, he would probably be up for another round, seeing his own spunk leaking out of Joenie. He takes off his now-ruined shirt, cleaning off his flaccid member with another rag before gathering Joenie in an embrace. He is no means light with it, nearly crushing the man with his hug from behind.

“How long are ya stayin’?” He brings Joenie to the bed, lying down first, then invites the man to sidle up next to him.

Joenie does just that, facing away from Arthur but snuggling nonetheless. “Until tomorrow morning. I figured I’d give you at least tomorrow before I rode back to Saint Denis in pursuit of more Pinkerton work.”

“So, you came here just for me,” Arthur says, almost reminiscing.

“When you say it like that, it sure makes you sound an awful lot like that John Marston of yours.”

Arthur shrugs. “Been around him a lot is all.”

“I know,” Joenie breathes, “But now you’re here with me.” He turns in Arthur’s arms, giving his bearded chin a chaste kiss. “And I’m doomed because you might turn me soft one day.”

Arthur smiles. “But would ya have it any other way?”

Joenie has thought on it, he has. Arthur is someone he will never regret meeting.

“No,” he says. “No, mister Morgan. I quite enjoy the misery you cause me, sorry of me to say.”

“Then it ain’t so bad, is it?” Arthur asks.

Joenie allows himself to relax against the man, hearing his strong heartbeat when he presses his ear against Arthur’s warm chest.

“I suppose,” he admits, and it is the truth.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me and more of my projects on [twit](https://twitter.com/ra9ical).


End file.
